He'd Always Come Back
by transformersjunkie
Summary: Oneshot. Link deals with Sheik and his evasiveness, and over time learns to love. Angsty, SheikxLink, you can't miss it.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the locations, or anything. Pinky promise.**

**Also, Sheik here is male. Whether or not he is his own seperate character from Zelda, or whether he is Zelda in a _really_ good disguise is up to you! **

**Rated M for some manly loving. :]**

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When I first laid eyes on him, I didn't know what to think. I was confused and awkward, and as he spoke, I learned that I had awoken from a seven year sleep, during which I had transitioned from innocent child to reluctant adult. I remembered attempting to pull the Master Sword from its pedestal, but I had been too small. Now, it was in my hand, the weight comforting rather than overwhelming. But holding the sword was easy, it was the adapting to my new body that proved challenging.

I marveled at myself. I was much taller, and that fact alone made me grin. Everything was so much smaller now! I had muscle now too, visible muscle. I hefted the sword up a little, marveling at my newfound abilities. I absently lifted my hand, touching my face. It felt the same, but I longed to get a look at what I looked like now. My hair was longer now but it was still held up in my trusty cap. And what was this? Earrings? Not something I would have chosen voluntarily, but everything else was more than up to par, so who was I to complain? I was still grinning and I turned around, running my tongue over my new adult teeth. This feeling of power and capability that was coursing through my body was exhilarating. I felt as though I could take on the world and win, which, I was about to find out, was exactly what I was supposed to do.

When I turned around, swaying slightly, a figure stepped out of the shadows. I felt my new body tense, although had he been a threat or an attacker, I doubted I would have managed to defeat him. My body was still a little awkward and I tried to balance myself out and disguise my instability. The figure didn't move, so I used the opportunity to study him.

His name was Sheik, he told me later. He wore a skintight blue and white outfit that covered him completely, leaving no skin exposed. Wrapped around his arms and legs were white strips of bandaging, and what they were for eluded me. He wore a head cover and a piece of cloth covered his face save for his eyes. His eyes were strange and foreign, and sent chills down my spine in a way I hadn't known eyes could. As he stood before me, mysterious and forbidden, he recited his speech during which he told me what had occurred in the years past and what I had to do to revert the world back to normal. I had many questions, the most pressing of which was whether he would appear to me ever again. I prayed to the goddesses that night that our encounter today would not be our last. The goddesses were listening.

The next time I saw him was at Death Mountain Crater. He had appeared from the shadows as before and stood before me, silent and watching. I straightened my back, my body now much more familiar. I longed for his approval. I knew that the goddesses had chosen me for this daunting task, yet I still felt inferior to my newfound guide. However, as we made eye contact, the surge of butterflies in my stomach refused to be ignored. I had no idea why he provoked this sensation, but he did, and it only increased as time passed by.

He recited his speech, but the content of it raised more emotion in me, for the words he spoke made me think of friendships past, and the friendship I hoped to gain from him. And as he pulled his harp out and twanged the strings with experienced fingers, I felt a longing in my heart. I'd never felt this emotion before, and it made me nervous. But I followed the notes on my ocarina and the song soothed me some. But far too soon the song ended. I wanted him to stay, although I'd never admit as much, and I moved forward, albeit unsure of what I would do if I got him in my grasp. But a wall of fire raged up before me, singeing me slightly. When the flames died down, he was gone. As I made my way through the temple, I tried my best to ignore the hollow feeling in my stomach. It worked for the rest of the day, but that night as I laid down to sleep, my mind buzzed with thoughts of the elusive Sheik, and I felt my face flush even though I was alone, save for the sleeping fairy in my hat.

Part of me wished I had someone who would explain this feeling to me, for it was starting to worry me. Was it healthy to be so preoccupied with someone? Especially another man? I had known women. I had pursued friendships with them. I knew that I was supposed to feel that way towards them, especially the princess. Everyone else felt that way. They craved her approval, not the approval of the watcher who aided me in my quest. That night I dreamt of him. When I woke up, Navi was giving me strange looks and I had a bad feeling she knew.

Our third encounter was in an icy cavern. I had just defeated a white wolfos and had only just turned around to see Sheik standing there. I was panting from exertion, but even as the minutes ticked by, my heart had hardly slowed. The wolfos wasn't scary, but Sheik's presence evoked similar feelings to fear. I could feel my palms beginning to sweat and I tried to maintain my grip on my sword. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a glint that I found unbelievably intriguing. Part of me wished I could run up to him and tear off that damned cloth he wore. I wanted to see his face, trace his nose, touch his mouth. I knew he would never let me, but still, part of me ached to touch him. Even if I only managed to grasp feebly at his fingers as he disappeared, it would be enough to last me awhile. And his fingers! Oh those damn fingers, that skillfully teased the harp strings and coaxed out sounds I could only hope to emulate. I often dreamed about those fingers, although it was never a harp they stroked.

He spoke to me about the trials ahead, and I thought I detected a sense of emotion glittering through his clipped words. He seemed as though he was struggling to stay unattached and emotionless, but I was more adept than he thought, and I noticed the way his breath hitched when he called me hero. I noticed the way his eyes glittered when he spoke of what I had to do. His stance gave off the impression he didn't care, although I could see the way his body was tensed. He moved with a calculated grace that made me jealous; at least, I assumed it was jealousy, although by the way it wormed its way into my groin, I soon learned that it wasn't.

He disappeared far too quickly again, leaving me and Navi alone. She was glaring at me.

"Hey! If you don't stop staring at that boy, he's going to think you're slow in the head!" she cried shrilly into my ear. I took a step back, trying to wipe the desire off my face. She saw though. It was obvious. I blushed in retort and pulled my bangs over my eyes. She was not to be deterred though.

"I'm serious! Whenever he appears, it's like your brain goes on vacation! I'm surprised you remember what he says half the time!" she chirped, pushing my hair aside to try to stare me down. I didn't need to be reminded that I all but drooled whenever he made himself known.

I guess I needed to work on controlling myself a little.

That night I laid on my side, doing my best to not think about the one that preoccupied my mind. But unbidden, images of the warrior floated into my mind's eye. I tried to chase off the images by replacing them with a check list of things I had to do. But that helped for all of five minutes. Soon I was back at where I started, pining away for him. It hurt to know he tried so hard to get away from me whenever I attempted to get near, that he did his job and disappeared. I wished he would stay, maybe talk to me more. I liked hearing his slight accent, his voice muffled by his mask, although I often wished he would get rid of it. I had a sneaking suspicion that underneath that offending cloth was a face far too attractive to be kept hidden.

As Navi and I trekked our way to the next temple, I found my thoughts wandering. The past couple of nights I had dreamt of him again, which wasn't exactly strange, but what had occurred in those dreams was. I always woke up flushed and panting, a fine layer of sweat covering my body, and I'd have to sit for a moment and console myself. I had heard enough conversation from gruff, crude men to understand what he and I were doing in my dreams, and part of me longed too emulate it in real life. However, I knew in my heart that even if I did manage to get a hold of him, he'd never wish to pursue any sort of activity with me, especially the ones I kept dreaming of; he was above such petty things such as desire, and lust.

We met next in the desert, sand blasting my face and hands as I did my best not to inhale the air too deeply. I had done so early and enjoyed a coughing fit that had Navi frantically pounding on my chest. I survived. We trekked on farther, Navi shielded from the wind and sand in my hat, while I had to make due with my hands to guard my eyes. But I heard the unmistakable bang that had often left me alone and unhappy. I turned to see Sheik. His eyes were narrowed against the glare of the sun on the sand, and even from where I stood, I could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He greeted me as usual, calling me hero in a voice that was far more alluring than it had a right to be. I swallowed nervously as he recited his speech with practiced ease, but I wasn't really listening. Instead I was replaying the way he called me hero. I often hoped he would slip up and say my name one day, but then again, he wasn't the kind of person who ever slipped up, and for that I admired and despised him.

He had stopped talking, and I could tell now in the way his legs tensed, that he was getting ready to leave again. As if of its own accord, my body threw the sword and shield down, losing any excess weight that would slow me down as I began to run at the elusive warrior. He reacted quickly, eyes widening for a moment, bright with something I could not define, but then he was pulling out a deku nut with speed I had not anticipated. I had been a good ten feet from him, which hadn't seemed that far at first, but now it seemed like a mile. My boots sank into the sand, slowing me down, and I suppressed a howl of rage as he threw down the nut that would carry him away from me yet again. I would not let him escape; I was the hero, I was capable of anything, including capturing Sheik. But even as I was only three feet from him, I heard the bang and smelled the smoky scent that often haunted my dreams.

I think this was the first time I ever touched him. I dove out towards him as the nut began to spirit him away. I grabbed his hand, his fingers crushed under my fist. They were slender and long, and I felt as though I could break them easily, had I wanted too. But then they were gone, and my fist clenched down on thin air. I heard Navi shriek as I hit the ground and laid there, panting. I had been so close! I hit the sand angrily, but of course it did nothing. He had been in my grasp, if only just his fingers. Next time, I vowed, he would not get away.

My next destination was Kakariko. I was quite sullen, according to Navi, who grumbled about my long face and irritability. I ignored her. I knew I was moody, and even though I swiped at her on more than one occasion, I didn't regret it. She needed to stop with her muttering words like "love" and "stupid" and "save Hyrule". Yes, I knew I needed to save Hyrule, that's exactly what I was doing! It wasn't my fault I had to have such a distracting guide during my journey.

As we entered the village, I noticed that the sky was an unnatural stormy grey. Even the air seemed alive, and I shivered, goose bumps popping up underneath my tunic. This wasn't normal. But when I turned the corner and took in the sight, I felt my body bristle with anger. And fear. Fear was not something I felt often, but when I did, it was intense and I hated it.

By the well I had ventured into as a child, was Sheik. The joy of seeing him again, and seeing him move fluidly as he fought brought a chill to my spine, but the excitement was destroyed when I realized just what he was fighting so valiantly against. It was a shadow like creature that exuded darkness and even I swallowed nervously at the thought of doing battle against it. And here was Sheik, attempting to kill it, and he was losing. I drew my sword, suddenly aware of how much time I had spent gazing like a dazed onlooker, and I charged forward. But the monster, who had been slowly trying to choke Sheik, looked over at me. He dropped Sheik, who had been a good distance into the air. He landed without his usual cat like grace, instead opting for a sickening thud that made me want to drop to me knees and wail. He didn't move, even as the monster fled in the direction of the graveyard.

I dropped my sword and ran to Sheik's side. He was crumpled up in a heap that made my stomach lurch. He had been attacked brutally, with cuts and rips riddling his body. He managed to open one eye, blearily looking up at me. His breathing was shallow, and as I knelt beside him, he closed his eye again, body sagging. He couldn't die on me. I wouldn't let him. I picked him up carefully, his head lolling against my neck as I took him to the nearest house. It was abandoned, as the monster seemed to have chased off the inhabitants. I placed him onto the bed and worriedly looked at his wounds. Navi chirped at me to undress him and assess the full extent of the damage, but I balked. The last thing I wanted to do was strip him naked and have him wake up and strike out at me, but I figured I'd risk it. But even as I fretted over him, the wounds began to knit, flesh closing over itself, the blood dissipating. After a few minutes, I realized I felt the peculiar twinge in the air and realized it was magic. I could see the lines of his wounds fading until they only became tiny pink threads that wove their way across his body. And as I admired his body, I felt his eyes on me. I blushed as I met his gaze. I had left his face cloth on, partially because I feared how he'd react when he woke up without any dignity. His eyes looked amused, the red irises glittering. I saw his eyes crease up and a swirl of joy rose through my stomach as I realized he was smiling.

"Thank you, hero," he murmured, folding his hands over his stomach. Part of me wanted to crawl onto the bed, tug off his mask and press my lips to his. The way his eyes were surveying me almost convinced me too, but I let my head drop onto my palms. The object of my affection, here, within arms reach and suddenly I was overcome with shyness. Of course. The bed creaked quietly and when I looked up, it was empty. He was standing on the other side of the room, pulling on his suit. He had rolled it up to his waist and was securing his hair, while I admired his back. But then he turned suddenly. His eyes looked sad, if anything, and I felt momentarily shocked that I was actually able to discern his mood.

I stood quickly, my feet carrying across the room in a heartbeat, and as he turned around in surprise, still slow after being attacked, I wrapped my arms around him. He was smaller than me, something I'd never really thought about until now. He was still warm though, and the sensation of his body against mind made my heart pound. He smelled like smoke and air, which made me laugh internally; after all, smoke and air was what I though he was made out of the first time we met. But even as the seconds ticked by, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the attack that was sure too come.

I expected a fist to the face, maybe one of his throwing darts embedded in my chest. Maybe even a swift kick to my stomach. After all, he was unbelievably flexible and quick, and despite his injuries, I wouldn't put it past him to wriggle out of my grasp and get away yet again.

But the attack I was so sure was imminent never came.

I could feel his hands pressing lightly against my chest, a half hearted attempt to get away, but he soon stopped struggling and actually leaned into me, sliding his arms around my waist. I opened my eyes and looked down at him and to my surprise and relief, he was looking back at me, his eyes warm and dark. I had since learned to recognize lust and desire, and that was exactly what lingered in his eyes. I drew him close to me; I longed to press my mouth to his, but his damned cloth was in the way and I didn't have a desire to ruin his trust by tearing it off of him, as much as I itched too. But as if he had read my mind, a delicate finger reached up and tugged it off, exposing his face to me. It was as I imagined. He had a very straight nose and thin lips that had parted slightly as I tightened my hold on him. I could hear his uneven breathing intensify as I leaned down. Our lip barely brushed against each other and I had only the time to register the sound of his breath hitching in his throat before he had wound his hand into my hair and pulled to him.

His mouth was soft, softer than I expected, and he yielded to me when I took control, another thing that surprised me. He was often silent and cold, dominated by none, except for the shadow in the well, I added as an afterthought. And how odd it was to have him surrender to me, falling into my arms easily, although that had been a feat in and of itself. After all those days of him leaving me, just out of reach and craving his touch, here he was, mouth moving against mine with unbridled passion. I gently let my tongue press against his lips, which parted appealingly, allowing me to explore him more thoroughly. His own tongue pressed against mine, sending sparks shivering through my back. I pressed his closer to me, and he moaned slightly into the kiss, causing me to almost forget what I was doing. I couldn't believe I had made possibly the most silent, elusive and stoic warrior ever to stalk my homeland, moan.

I could feel his cheeks heating up, obviously embarrassed at having let his noise slip, but I though nothing of it. I only continued to kiss him, pouring my frustrations and emotions into him. He let me, allowing me to plunder his mouth mercilessly and pull him close, hands hardly able to stay still.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to get the Sheikah into bed. I had to work my way slowly, tugging his mask off fully, touching him and teasing him until he could hardly stand it. I pressed my mouth to his neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. He gasped at the contact and I smiled into his neck. Before I could even react, he had pushed me back onto the bed, climbing onto me with his trademark agility. His mouth found mine again, and his fingers delved lower, and I succumbed to his ministrations.

The night was long, and I only really remember blurs from it. I remember stripping him down and admiring him from afar. He blushed and tugged at his hair as my eyes roamed over his body. He was tan all over, I noted, wondering vaguely how he had achieved that, but I also noted the scars he had, and the way his body moved, each muscle tensing or relaxing as he walked back over to the bed. I couldn't get over the way he moved! When he crawled across the blanket, eyes dark and desire filled, I felt my body react and I blushed too. But soon he stripped me down, and it was my turn to feel shy. But it didn't last long, as he pulled me close and tilted his head up, eyes half lidded.

And I remember the way he groaned as I pulled him onto me. I had my arms looped around his chest and I was pulling and pressing at the knots in his shoulders as he sucked carefully on my neck. Apparently I had chosen that location well, for he stopped leaving his little marks I would come to cherish, and could only lay there as I massage him. He moaned into my neck, his breath tickling my cheek. I could feel the way his body was heating up, and I noted with amusement, that with realizing his level of arousal, mine was growing too. There was no going back now.

I remember when we decided to go farther. I knew how this worked; but I was afraid to hurt him. I nudged against him and he twitched, eyes wide as I slowly pressed into him. His jaw was tense, teeth gritted as I pushed farther in. He froze, eyes shut tight, hissing his discomfort, and I paused. After a few moments, he had steeled himself and I continued, trying my best to focus on his comfort rather than the consuming pleasure threatening to overwhelm me. We continued at this pace for a while, as he slowly became used to me. I experimentally thrusted and by the way his eyes glazed over, I knew the pleasure had overridden the pain. I wanted to remember him like that forever, eyes glazed, lips parted as he gasped with each thrust. A light layer of sweat covered us both now, and I loved the way his hair stuck to his forehead and the way he was pushed up against the pillows with every thrust I administered.

I loved the way he curled against me and held tight, hands curling on my shoulders. I loved the way he made me gasp in pleasure. I loved the way his eyes would open wide right before he came, but most of all I loved the way he would shout my name, not hero, as he slipped over the edge. When he shouted out like that, my name suddenly becoming one magical syllable on his lips, I could never last much longer. I always followed him over the edge, my vision whitening out until there was nothing but pleasure, and warmth and his tan skin and the scent of us mingling together.

We fell asleep in each other's arms that night. We were sweaty and he was sore, I could tell by the way he moved, wincing when he thought I wasn't looking. But he couldn't hide anything else from me. He was mine now, and I his. I didn't know where exactly that left us, but he had made an imprint on my heart and stolen away my innocence, ever since the first day I laid eyes on him on the Temple of Time. I liked to console myself with the thought that I had been his first, but I knew I had not taken his innocence. He had not had any for which I could steal. But still, he was mine, my guide, my Sheikah. And although I wished we could stay like this forever, we could not. I drifted asleep, contented.

When I awoke the next morning, he was gone. I cried. I couldn't believe I cried, but I did. He had been mine, I had finally caught him and then he had left, like I was some cheap woman he could avoid for the rest of his life. The day passed in a blur. I was heartbroken and heartsick, and hardly left the bedroom, save to wash up and get clean. As night began to fall, I dreaded the idea of climbing back into the bed we had shared. But I did, stripping my clothes unhappily.

But as I laid down, I felt a cool hand trail down my spine. I turned, shocked, to find his face next to mine, eyes a strange mixture of sadness and happiness. He had come back, after all, and as I kissed him again, I could feel his body wracking with dry sobs. He pulled himself together enough to whisper three words I never though I'd hear him say. And as I repeated them, I knew he would always come back. Always.

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**And there you go. What happens in the end is up to you. :]**


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